


The Fragment Dreams Affair

by atributetotheclassicmovies



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, both emotionally and physically, there are still some light-hearted moments I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atributetotheclassicmovies/pseuds/atributetotheclassicmovies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The truth is unbearable for Napoleon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fragment Dreams Affair

_“You have your order. Kill him!”_

_The voice echoed in the mind of a dark-haired, brown-eyed UNCLE agent. His eyes flickered open and he stood up robotically. He didn’t know where he was, but that didn’t seem to stop him. His shoes squeaked as he walked down the stone stairs. The place was dark, with the occasional flashes of lights reflecting those rapidly shifting shadows on the walls. The smell of burning chemical and gunpowder filled every corner without mercy. Glasses splintered as transparent liquids dripping down the counter. Bullets were flying everywhere. The sounds of painful groaning made one’s heart twisted._

_“Kill him!” The voice appeared again._

_He stopped and looked down at his strong hands as they clenched tightly till the knuckles turned white and then unclenched them. He moved forward. He didn’t blink as a bullet swift pass his ear; he didn’t look down when a body tumbled in front of him. He lifts his legs and walked right cross him. He kept moving forward. A short distance away, a figure turned his head. He heard the footsteps as the figure ran towards him, shouting something that he did not understand._

_“Kill him!” The voice became forced and sharp._

_The figure grabbed his arm and tried to pull him down. He shoved the hand roughly away and pushed him back. The figure widened his eyes in shock and staggered backward. He kept moving towards the figure. Before he could turn and run, the figure tripped and fell flat on his back. He looked at him emptily, bent down, and his left hand clenched onto the figure’s neck tightly. His body struggled violently as he tried to free himself, but was unsuccessful as he gave the figure a hard punch right in his stomach with his right hand. The figure groaned and attempted to curl up his body._

_“Kill him!!!” The voice was almost screaming._

_The figure grabbed his wrist with one hand and the other held up to defend himself from the beating. He opened his mouth and managed to utter a choking word that did not mean anything to him. He kept his left hand pressed on the figure’s neck and the other continued to punch him again and again._

_He didn’t stop._

_The groans of the figure underneath him gradually faded, and after a few soft whimpers, he no longer made any noises. He felt the figure’s grip on his wrist slowly loosened and slid down to the ground, palm up, so he released his hold on him and stood up. He suddenly felt very tired and dizzy. He looked around. The place was deadly silent now. His sights became blurry and his legs barely support him. He moved away from the figure with the help of a few wooden boxes beside, and finally, his body gave in. He slumped down against the wall and darkness swallowed him._

\----------

Napoleon slowly opens his eyes and wonders where he is. He carefully sits up, and with the support of the wooden boxes beside, he tries to stand up. The sudden and violent throbbing of his head immediately pulls him down to the ground. Napoleon can only lower his head, arms around his curled up legs, waiting for the dizziness to pass. As the painful feeling gradually fades, he lifts his head and surveys around. Apparently, he is in some kind of dungeon, and the only exit is a round staircase, which, unfortunately, is blocked by a steel bar gate. In the middle, there is a huge counter. On top of it lay several broken lab equipment, and unknown liquids drip down to the ground. He looks down. Several bodies lie on the floor, some clearly belong to THRUSH, as he sees the little birdies on their uniforms, and the others… seem to be his fellow agents. His eyes soon land on a familiar blond couple feet away from him. 

“Illya?” 

Napoleon says as he struggles to drag his body nearer to his partner. Napoleon reaches out his hand and touches the blond hair. 

“Illya.” 

There is no response. 

“Illya…” He gently flips the Russian over and the sight of him makes Napoleon's heart bleeds. 

Half of Illya’s face is covered with blood, and it turns his blond bang into a gothic red. Both his shirt and suit jacket are torn, dirty, and smear with blood. There is also a large, nasty dark purple bruise on Illya’s neck. 

“Oh god, Illya, no…” Napoleon says in a choking voice. “why… I… don’t…” 

His brain is all mix up now and he is unable to form a coherent sentence. He kneels beside his partner, tears filling his eyes. _There are so many things I want to say to you, and so many things I want to do with you._ Napoleon’s heart pounds so fast that he thinks it might burst out of his chest in no time. His hand trembles as he bends down to check Illya’s pulse. _Please don’t let him die, I’ll give you my soul if that’s what it costs._ Napoleon can’t imagine a life without Illya. 

“Stay with me, IK.” He pleads. 

He lets out a breath that he does not know he is holding when he finds Illya’s pulse, weak, but nonetheless, exists. He carefully looks for Illya’s other injuries that might need immediate care. He caresses his partner’s right arm and senses the wetness seeping through the jacket. He slowly rolls up the sleeves, which reveals a long, deep cut, and several smaller, shallower ones. Napoleon frowns at the wounds and suspects they are probably caused by the broken beaker beside Illya. As he removes the jacket from his partner, a palm-size notebook drops down to the ground, and Napoleon picks it up and puts it in his pocket. He rips off one of the sleeves to bandage Illya’s arm. He then uses one arm to circle Illya’s body closer to him, until his head rests steadily on Napoleon’s chest. He uses another hand to take out a handkerchief and carefully wipe off the blood on Illya’s face. Illya lets out a soft whimper but does not regain consciousness. 

“It’s ok, Illya. It’s me. It’s Napoleon. I’m here. I’m here…” 

He holds Illya closer to him and presses a soft kiss on his forehead. He senses sudden brightness coming from the direction of the stairs that proves they might not be alone. Judging from the present situation, Napoleon thinks it is best for them to stay away from the staircase. One hand under his knees and the other on his back, Napoleon holds Illya up. He finds a corner that can conceal both of them completely. He gently puts Illya down with his back against the wall. Napoleon then moves through his pockets trying to locate his communicator. Illya needs medical attention as soon as possible. He lets out a frustrated sigh when his communicator is nowhere to be found. Luckily, Illya’s is still in his pocket. He uncaps it. 

“Open Channel D, Solo here. Get me Mr. Waverly. Emergency.” 

His boss’ voice finally appears as Napoleon waits impatiently. 

“Ah, Mr. Solo, glad to hear from you. Are you alright?” 

Waverly actually sounds concerned, much to Napoleon’s surprise, as he often suspects the old man only cares about the missions rather than the safety of his agents. 

“I’ve been rather worried since Mr. Kuryakin’s last check-in. He said that you might be in some sort of trouble.” 

“Trouble?” 

What trouble? Napoleon tilts his head in confusion. Everything about this mission is almost a blank to him now. 

“By the way, how’s Mr. Kuryakin?” 

Napoleon looks at his injured partner. 

“He is hurt… badly.” He forces himself to steady his tone. “He needs medical assistance as soon as possible.” 

There’s a silence on the other end of the communicator. 

“How about Mr. Murray, Mr. Harris, and Mr. Shelton?” 

Napoleon looks around and locates his fellow agents. Two of them face down, and the other one is on his back. He closes his eyes. 

“They are all dead.” 

He can hear Waverly sighs on the other end. 

“Very well then, Mr. Solo, proceed to the nearest pickup point immediately. Mr. Reeves will pick you and Mr. Kuryakin up.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Before Napoleon uncaps his communicator, Waverly stops him abruptly. 

“Wait, Mr. Solo! Did you get the notes?” 

“The notes?” Napoleon is once again being caught off guard and murmurs to himself. 

“The notes…”

\----------

_Three days ago_

“Good morning, Illya.” Napoleon whistled joyfully as he stepped into their shared office. 

“You’re late, Napoleon.” Illya looked up from the newspaper and narrowed his eyes. “We have a meeting with Waverly at nine. In case you're too busy to look at your watch, it’s already nine past ten.” 

Napoleon simply winked at him without making any replies. Illya shook his head and followed him out to the conference room. 

“I don’t think the old man will like this.”

 

“Ah, gentlemen. So you finally decide to show up.” 

Waverly furrowed his brows as the two agents entered the conference room. Illya immediately caused Napoleon a _look what I’ve told you_ glance. Napoleon purposefully ignored him. 

“Well, sit down, gentlemen. We can’t waste any time.” 

Waverly handed each of the agents a black and white photo. 

“You recognize these two gentlemen, right?” 

“Yes. That’s Edmund Benson. One of THRUSH’s top operators, who directed Operation Mystic, um… two years ago.” 

Napoleon put it down and leaned his upper body towards Illya in order to look at the photo in Illya’s hand. 

“And that’s Dr. Walter Richardson, professor of chemistry, who was also a well-known scientist. Didn’t he commit suicide less than a month ago?” Illya asked. 

“Quite so.” Waverly nodded. 

“However, the reason for his suicide is unknown. Apparently, he was physically and psychologically healthy.” Illya continued to say. 

He took out his dark glasses and put the photo down on the table. 

“Well, Mr. Kuryakin, seems like we found the reason behind Dr. Richardson’s suicide.” 

Both agents leaned forward for the answer. 

“Dr. Richardson was famous for inventing innovative drugs that most of those he kept in secret. He thought the world wasn’t ready for them yet. Couple weeks before his suicide, THRUSH tried to kidnap him and forced him into making his newly invented drugs available to them. Dr. Richardson firmly refused, but he knew THRUSH wouldn’t give up that easy. Before he committed suicide, he destroyed all his inventions and burned all of the notes. Unfortunately, THRUSH restored one particular drug’s notes from the ashes.” 

“That was unfortunate.” Napoleon drummed his fingers on the table. “Hmm… let me guess, so this operation is lead by Benson?” 

“Yes, you’re right. Mr. Solo.” 

“But sir, what exactly does that drug do?” Illya asks. 

“Well, gentlemen, rather embarrassingly, we do not know yet. The only thing we know is that the notes are hidden somewhere inside the lab of Mr. Benson’s mansion. Whatever THRUSH desires is not a good thing and we need to find those notes as soon as possible before THRUSH starts to mass producing and uses it against the world.” 

“What’s the plan, sir?” Napoleon asked. 

“Well, Mr. Benson is holding a costume party in his mansion two days later, and Mr. Solo, you’re going to go and retrieve the notes.” 

The door swung opened as Lisa Rogers walked in with a pot of hot coffee. She filled some for Waverly and the two agents. 

“We already got an invitation for you, and you’re going to dress as a…” 

Waverly turns to Lisa. “Miss Rogers, what is Mr. Solo going to dress as?” 

“A caveman.” 

Lisa said slowly and looked up at Napoleon with a smile. 

“A what?” 

Napoleon wasn’t sure if his ears were functioning today. Waverly turned back amusingly. 

“Oh yes, a caveman. One of our agents left that costume years ago from a mission, and I’m glad that we didn’t throw it away.” Waverly sounded weirdly proud. 

Napoleon still had his mouth open in shock. 

“But sir, couldn’t I wear something else?”

“No need to waste money on that, Mr. Solo.” 

Napoleon was not going to give up that quick. 

“Could I buy my own costume?” He saw Waverly frowned. “I mean, with my own money?” 

“Mr. Solo, you’re going to wear that costume.” 

Napoleon swallowed hard, he really didn’t know why the old man insisted on him wearing that, it was not like he was going to spend _his_ money. 

“Miss Rogers will help you make a few adjustments with the costume.” Waverly said and intentionally ignored his agent’s frustrated expression. 

“I…” 

“Don’t worry, Napoleon. I promise you’ll be the sexiest caveman in the whole wide world.” Lisa said, really without helping much. 

“Quite so, Mr. Solo. You’re in good hands.” Waverly added. 

Illya tried to cover up his laugh and accidentally choked on his coffee. Napoleon noticed him and his eyes lit up. 

“But why me, why not Illya?” 

Napoleon protested. He felt ridiculous of having those conversations, like a five years old arguing that he only had three candies instead of four like his friends. 

“You all know how savage and aggressive he can be sometimes, especially in… Ouch!” 

Before he could utter the word “bed”, Illya stepped heavily on his shoe. He caused an angry glance at Illya, but was glad that he stopped him before he accidentally revealed their little secret. Fortunately, Waverly did not ask Napoleon to finish his sentence. He simply furrowed his brows, but somehow, both Napoleon and Illya felt their boss knew exactly where it was going to lead.

“Mr. Kuryakin will be your contact man.” Their boss said firmly. 

He arranged the files and looked up at them. 

“Well, that’s it, gentlemen. Good luck.” 

 

When they walked out of the conference room, Illya couldn’t hold on anymore and laughed out loud. Napoleon turned to him and pretended to be annoyed. 

“I’m sorry, Napoleon, it’s just…” Illya tried to catch his breath. “A caveman…” 

He laughed so hard even tears were coming out of his eyes. Napoleon suddenly grabbed Illya’s arms and trapped him against the wall. Illya widened his eyes at his partner’s sudden action. 

“So you think this is funny?” 

They were so close and Illya could feel Napoleon’s warm breath against him. 

“Uh-huh.” Illya answered, biting his lower lip. 

Napoleon leaned closer until his lips pressed against Illya’s and kissed him passionately.

“Napoleon…” 

Illya whispered during the break of their kisses. 

“What?” 

Napoleon tried to kiss him again. 

“Napoleon!” Illya pushed Napoleon away. “People will see us! Stop!” 

Napoleon held Illya’s chin up and smirked. 

“Illya, do you think I care if they see us or not after knowing that I’m going to dress as a caveman for this mission?” 

Illya opened his mouth to protest, but Napoleon covered it with his hand. 

“Don’t say anything, Illya.” 

He slowly removed his hand and pressed another kiss on Illya, and felt him kissing back eagerly. 

“Shall we take this to our office? And you can show me again what a savage kitten you can be.” Napoleon said naughtily. 

“Savage kitten is at home, Napoleon.” 

Illya glared at him and back to his watch. 

“And we need to make a delivery at 1. Have you forgotten?” 

“Then we still got 20 minutes for this.” He pressed another kiss on Illya. “Office?” 

“No, Napoleon, I need lunch.” 

“Please? I’ll take you to the most expensive restaurant after our delivery?” 

“Lunch!” 

Napoleon sighed and looked disappointed. Illya couldn’t help but smile. 

“Tonight then, Napoleon.” 

His eyes lit up like a child walking into a candy shop. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Well, come on. We can’t let your little belly gets upset.” 

He patted lightly on Illya’s stomach and stole another kiss before Illya could even notice it. 

\----------

“Mr. Solo?”

The memory brings back a strong wave of emotions that makes Napoleon’s heart bleeds as he looks back at his unconscious partner. _Oh, Illya. What happened? Why did they do this to you? Why wasn’t I there to protect you?_ He feels a mix of anger and regret as he touches Illya’s cheek lightly. 

“Mr. Solo! The notes!” 

Waverly’s voice sounds rather impatient now. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

The notes are not on Napoleon, that much he is certain. So he bends down and checks Illya’s pockets, all of them empty. He stands up and rocks his head to the side, then he suddenly remembers the palm-size notebook that falls out of Illya’s jacket. So he searches his own pockets, and there it is. He flips through it quickly to make sure. 

“It’s here, sir. I have Dr. Richardson’s notes.” 

“Very well. Mr. Solo. Proceed to your pick up point immediately.” 

He recaps his communicator. To escape from this basement using the stairs is out of the question, it isn’t wise to expose themselves out in the open directly to another unknown danger, and besides, there is this huge steel bar door that blocks their path. The most likely way to escape this dungeon seems to be a small tunnel, the size of the entrance is just above Napoleon’s waist. It is only couple steps away from their current location. Napoleon walks towards it and peeks into the tunnel. It is too dark to see where it leads to, but he decides to give it a try. He examines the few steel bars that block the tunnel and pulls them slightly to taste their strengths. He is glad that despite all his gadgets are gone, he still has a small explosive hidden under his inner pocket. Napoleon sets the explosive carefully and counts to five before the steel bars get loose. He pulls them down and puts them on the side. Napoleon gets back to Illya and places him into the tunnel. Illya moans and shifts his body a little.

“Hang on, Illya, we’re almost there.” 

Before he can crawl into it himself, he hears footsteps approaching and voices coming nearer from the stairs. The steel bar door slowly slides up following a metal cracking sound. Napoleon quickly yet silently connects the steel bars back to the tunnel and hides behind the wooden boxes. He peeks out and sees two long shadows becoming shorter as two figures emerge from the staircase. Napoleon immediately recognizes the slightly younger and shorter one as Mr. Benson, but he has no idea who the other is. 

“Are you sure this drug works?” 

“Mr. Benson, believe me, this works. You yourself said the result was marvelous.” The other man rubs his hands together nervously. 

“I know. But I need to make sure that he is totally under our control.” 

Benson narrows his eyes, which makes the other man more nervous. He takes out a handkerchief and wipes off the sweat on his forehead. 

“Don’t worry, sir. I’m certain you got yourself Section Two Number One UNCLE agent.” 

Benson shoots the other man a cold glance. 

“You better be.” 

They circle around the dungeon and check the bodies on the floor. 

“Where the hell is he?” 

Benson looks impatient as he waves his gun to the floor. The other man stutters and walks nearer to him.

“He… he… he must be here, Mr. Benson. I left him here myself and I see to him that he doesn’t leave.” 

Benson smiles wickedly. 

“Dr. Walton, you know something? I just bought this new toy, and I really,” He touches Walton’s sweat-beaded face with the tip of his gun. “really want to see how it functions.” He traces the gun until it rests on Walton’s temple. “Right now.” 

“Please, Mr. Benson. Wait! I… I almost forgot! I put a tracker on him.” 

He pulls out a remote controller inside his breast pocket and turns the switch on. 

“Why didn’t you say so before?” 

Benson slaps his hand on Walton’s back and he lets out an awkward laugh. 

“A tracker?” 

Napoleon frowns and starts to finger through his belt and shirt. He finds a tiny sliver button under his collar. 

“Shit!” Napoleon curses his carelessness under the breath. 

Before he has time to remove it, he hears Benson’s voice and freezes. 

“Ah, Mr. Solo. Here you are!” 

Napoleon narrows his eyes as the two men appear in front of him. 

“How do you feel, Mr. Solo?” 

He looks at him up and down carefully. He sees some dry blood on Napoleon’s knuckles and smirks. 

“Doing some beating huh? It must felt good, wasn’t it?” 

Napoleon glances at him coldly. 

“What do you want?”

He picks up a thick wooden piece on the floor as to defend himself, even though he knows he doesn’t have much chance if Benson decides to use the gun against him. Benson steps closer to him.

“Really, Mr. Solo, I don’t think you’ll want to do this.”

“Try me.”

Napoleon prepares the worst that might follow this. But instead of a gunshot, he hears Benson shouts at Walton furiously. 

“You said he’s totally under OUR CONTROL!!” 

“Y… yes, Mr. Benson, but per… perhaps he needs s… some more drug.” 

“You idiot!” 

Napoleon seizes this brief moment and jumps on Benson to get the gun out of his hand. Benson stumbles and falls. The two struggle on the ground. Napoleon knocks him over the head and Benson is out cold immediately. Napoleon sits on the ground with the gun in his hand and tries to catch his breath when he notices Walton is trying to escape. He raises his gun at him. 

“Doctor, don’t force me to use this.” 

Walton stops and pleads. 

“Please, Mr. Solo. I just did what he told me, I really have no intention to do you any harm.” Napoleon stares at him harshly. “I swear. Please.”

Napoleon sighs and looks around. He finds some thick ropes and binds Benson’s legs and hands. He turns to Walton, a finger pointing towards the round stairs. 

“Where does that lead to?”

“It… it leads to the main hall.”

“How many guards are there?”

Napoleon shakes the man with each question.

“T… Three at the hall and t… two at the front gate.”

Walton winces as Napoleon grabs him firmer.

“Other exits?”

“Only that.” He says as he points at a tunnel, the one Napoleon had just discovered.

“Where does that lead to?”

“The backyard, Mr. Solo.”  
As if reading Napoleon’s mind, he quickly adds.

“And there are no guards there.”

Napoleon nods slightly. 

“Sorry, doctor. I have to do this.”

Walton’s eyes widen in horror, but he relaxes a bit after knowing that Napoleon is only going to tie him and gags his mouth, rather than plants a bullet in his skull. Napoleon looks around one last time, tucks the gun around his waist and crawls into the tunnel. 

 

Holding and dragging the unconscious Illya through the dripping wet tunnel proves to be an immensely daunting test for Napoleon’s strength. Nevertheless, there is only one thought going through his mind: to get Illya and himself back to safety. With this in mind, Napoleon makes through the tunnel without stopping down. Fortunately, Walton is telling the truth and the exit of the tunnel isn’t far away from the pickup point. In fact, he can see UNCLE’s helicopter approaching right now. Napoleon holds on to Illya and waits for it to land. The pilot gets down and assists Napoleon to get Illya into the backseat. 

“Watch out his right arm.” 

“Yes, Mr. Solo.” 

When they finally settle down in the backseat, both of them are shivering. 

“Jack, do you have a blanket?” 

“It’s under the seat, Mr. Solo.” 

Napoleon takes out the blanket. 

“Thank you.” 

He sighs in relief when he finds the notes are safely tugged away in his pocket, only the cover is a little damage. He squeezes out some water from Illya’s hair then wraps the blanket tightly around their bodies and whispers softly to him. 

“Hang on, buddy, we’re almost home.” 

\----------

These past few days have been very quiet. Instead of sending Napoleon out for solo missions, Waverly only assigns some light paperwork for him to sign and to read through, which naturally implies that Napoleon can spend as much time as he wishes with his partner. In fact, Napoleon does spend more time in the medical than in his own apartment recently. He wants to be beside Illya when he is awake. The doctor assures him (for the thousandth times!) that Illya’s condition is stable, and he can leave the medical next week, though some of his wounds will need more time to fully recovered. Meanwhile, Illya needs plenty of rest. Therefore, Napoleon usually walks in when Illya is asleep, or if the situation sometimes gets worse, heavily sedated. 

Today, as usual, he opens the door quietly with some flowers in his hand and tip-toe into the medical. He sees nurse Sally walks by him and whispers. 

“Is he asleep?” 

“Yes.” 

Napoleon nods slightly and walks to Illya’s bedside. Before sitting down, he takes yesterday’s flowers out of the vase and replaces them with today’s. Sally walks by and smiles. 

“They’re very pretty.” 

Napoleon arranges the flowers carefully until he is satisfied. “Yes, they are.” 

“Illya will love it.” 

Napoleon looks over his sleeping partner and smiles. 

“I’m sure he will.” 

She goes out and leaves Napoleon alone with Illya. He looks at Illya for a long time and uses the back of his hand to tenderly stroke his partner’s cheek. Illya looks so fragile and pale, which make the purple bruises on his face even more obvious. He looks like a sick little child lying on an oversized bed, delicate and vulnerable. Napoleon moves down to hold Illya’s hand, and immediately makes a mental note to himself: After Illya recovers, he’ll take him to the most expensive restaurants every night until he grows all his meat back. His thought is being interrupted suddenly as he feels the hand grips back lightly. Napoleon looks up and his eyes meet his partner’s. 

“Illya?” 

He sees Illya’s baby blue eyes looking at him. His partner really has the most striking eyes. 

“Na…po…leon?” 

Napoleon smiles warmly. How he misses those beautiful eyes! 

“Yes, it’s me, partner.” 

Illya opens his mouth that looks like he’s going to say something, but instead, he holds up his hand and touches Napoleon’s cheek. Napoleon bends down to give Illya better access and covers his hand on Illya’s. 

“Napo…leon…?” 

“Am I alright?” 

Illya nods. 

He presses harder on Illya’s hand. “I’m alright, Illya, I’m alright.” 

“And the…” Illya breathes heavily. 

“The mission is complete, we got Richardson’s notes.” 

He kisses the back of Illya’s hand. Illya gives him a weak smile. Napoleon puts his hand back into the cover. 

“Now go back to sleep.” 

He soothes back Illya’s hair and sees him gradually closes his eyes. Napoleon sinks back down in a chair beside and he too, falls asleep.

\----------

_Napoleon handed in his invitation and entered the hall of Benson’s grand mansion feeling not quite himself. This should be a place where he can perfectly display his charm and wit, but he would much prefer digging a hole and hide in it now. Perhaps it was the mission that made him edgy? No, missions had never put a halt to his charm. Maybe it was the costume? Yes, it was definitely that stupid costume he was wearing. That ridiculous wig, that fake beard, and that rag, which covered his left shoulder all the way to his lower body. They irritated him, made his body itched like hell. If he had a choice, he would rather go naked._

_He looked around his target’s impressive property. It was truly magnificent. Fancy carpets covered two sets of round stairs that met at the second floor. Delicate marble statues erect on both sides. Chandelier hung in the middle of the roof, and those crystals reflected brilliant beams to all sides. All of these made him felt even more like an outcast. Napoleon’s thoughts were interrupted as a servant walked passed him with glasses of champagne on his tray. Napoleon took one in his hand and smiled as two ladies walked by. Then he smoothly sneaked into a restroom nearby. Making sure he was alone, he bolted the lock and pulled off his costume in disgust. He changed into his own clothes and stacked the costume into a bag. He swore he could still smell the stinking sweat of this costume’s last owner. He straightens his tie and suit before taking out his communicator._

_“Open Channel D, Solo to Kuryakin.”_

_“Kuryakin here.” Hearing his partner’s voice made Napoleon felt belonged again._

_“Illya, I’m inside Benson’s house now.”_

_“Good. Go down the stairs and they should lead you to the lab. And the notes are in one of those three drawers.” Illya paused for a second. “Afraid you’ll need to find out which one they are in. You got your tools?”_

_“Un-huh.” Napoleon pulled out a map and traced his fingers on the path. “Got it.”_

_“We’ll be waiting outside. And we’ll come in in twenty minutes if you aren’t out by then.”_

_“Oh, Illya, do you suggest that I’ll fail my job?” Napoleon said in a mocking tone. He felt like Napoleon Solo once that costume was off, and put away forever._

_“I’m merely stating a fact, now go on.” Illya didn’t sound impressed._

_“You wounded my pride.” Napoleon said dramatically._

_“A man with an ego like you? Don’t be ridiculous! Now stop talking and get going.” Illya said but with a smile in his voice._

_“Yes, mother.” Napoleon heard his partner snarled and he grinned._

_“Good luck, Napoleon.” His partner capped his communicator._

_“See you later, partner.” Napoleon said with a smile._

_Everything went with their initial plan so far as Napoleon walked down the stairs, heading towards the lab. According to UNCLE intelligence, there should be at least two guards and an electrified door before anyone can enter the lab. But he found none of those. Napoleon frowned. This was way too easy. It was so welcoming that made the back of his hair stood up. Something was wrong, very very wrong. Napoleon held his gun tighter as he carefully surveyed around. It was quiet and dim, like entering a ghost town. Before he could react, a hard and sharp object struck his head. Napoleon’s gun slipped out of his hand as he tried to support himself with the wall. But his knees eventually buckled and he fell. He saw two pairs of legs stood in front of him, then it was darkness._

\----------

“Napoleon?” 

He feels someone taps on his shoulder several times. 

“Napoleon!”

Napoleon gasps at the sound and shoves the hand away. He opens his eyes and sees Sally steps back a little, startled by his sudden reaction. 

“I’m sorry to scare you.” Napoleon says apologetically. 

“Are you alright?” She looks at him in concern. 

“Yes. Just a nightmare I guess.” 

“Napoleon, you should go home and get a good night sleep. You really need it.” She says as she sees the black circles under his eyes.

Napoleon hesitates. He really doesn’t want to leave his partner. As though realizing his concern, she smiles warmly. 

“Don’t worry, Napoleon. Illya will be fine, we’ll take good care of him.” 

He remains still. His brows knit together as if he’s contemplating.

“Don’t you trust us anymore?” 

Napoleon turns to her and lets out a tired smile. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Then go back home.” 

“Ok.”

He picks his jacket up and she leads him to the door. 

“Thank you, Sally, you’re the best.” 

She blushes at Napoleon’s compliment and opens the door for him. Napoleon looks back at Illya once more and heads out.

 

Jacket in one hand, Napoleon slowly drags his worn out body into the elevator, and then to the seemly endless hall. He finally makes it into his apartment before he falls asleep in the hallway. The bed squeaks loudly as Napoleon sits on it heavily. He loosens his tie and kicks away his shoes. He tries to bend down in order to take off his socks, but his body protests. In the end, Napoleon gives in and slumps on the bed, snoring as soon as his head hits the pillow.

\----------

_“Ah, Mr. Solo. You’re finally awake.”_

_Napoleon opened his eyes. All he could see in front of him was a blur. He blinked several times before his vision returned._

_“Welcome to our humble home.”_

_The same man’s voice appeared again. Napoleon winced as he felt a lump behind his head._

_“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Solo, it’ll pass.” That same voice again._

_Napoleon traced it and looked up at its owner. The man looked immensely familiar. He rocked his head aside and noticed him as Edmund Benson. Napoleon supported himself by the arms and sat up a bit straighter against the brick wall._

_“What do you want?” He asked coldly._

_“Now, now, Mr. Solo, don’t be so rude, after all, you’re going to work for us soon.”_

_He faked a small laugh and Napoleon didn’t like it at all._

_He snarled as he looked up at Benson. “Over my dead body.”_

_Benson shook his head and looked at the older man, who wore a lab coat._

_“Maybe his first lesson should be manners.”_

_The man beside him smiled nervously in agreement._

_“Oh, I’m Edmund Benson, by the way.”_

_It was that fake laugh again. If it wasn’t for the condition of his body, Napoleon would definitely knock him out cold right here, right now._

_Napoleon took a deep breath and sighed. “I know.”_

_“How flattered, Mr. Solo.”_

_Napoleon glared at him coldly._

_Where was Illya? It should be way past twenty minutes since he was captured. Or was all of this only a blink of an eye?_

_“What do you want?” Napoleon asked again._

_Benson sighed. “Our guest is rather impatient.”_

_He held out his hand to the man beside him, palm up. The man gave him a glass tube filled with transparent liquid. He shook it carefully and looked at the man suspiciously._

_“Sure this works?”_

_“Yes, Mr. Benson, I’m sure. But…”_

_“But what?” Benson demanded coldly._

_The man wearing the white lab coat wiped out his sweat on his forehead with his sleeve nervously._

_“B… But the effect won’t last very long.” Then he added quickly. “But of course, we are developing something that can last as long as we wish.”_

_“You better be or you’ll be sorry.”_

_Benson turned his attention back to Napoleon._

_“Since you’re going to be working with us in the future, I think it might be wise if we start with a better term.”_

_He extended his arm with the tube in front of Napoleon._

_“So, Mr. Solo, please drink this.”_

_Napoleon looked at him and one side of his lips curved up._

_“You must be kidding. Kill me might be faster.”_

_Benson started to look a little irritated._

_“Please don’t force me, Mr. Solo. Personally, I prefer not to use force myself.”_

_He extended his arm further and Napoleon could smell the stinkiness of the liquid. Napoleon shook his head firmly. Without warning, Benson yanked his head backward roughly by his hair and shoved the drug into him. Napoleon furrowed his brows due to the bitterness of the taste and felt some liquid slid down on one side of his mouth. He tried to spit it out, but Benson covered his mouth until he was sure that Napoleon swallowed it all. Napoleon coughed._

_“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”_

_Then he turned to the other man. “When will it take effect?”_

_He looked at the watch. Immediately was the answer. Benson smiled and looked down at Napoleon, who was still coughing. Napoleon suddenly felt very dizzy and then weird thing happened, he felt nothing at all. Only that his body was sinking, sinking, and sinking, until he could no longer taste the water, watch the sky, and feel the ground beneath him. Everything seemed to stop. There was only one thing he knew: There would be an order, and he would obey it._

_A guard ran inside._

_“Mr. Benson, there are four UNCLE agents in the lab currently.”_

_Benson motioned the guard to look after Napoleon and walked out to check the monitor. He smiled as he saw Illya and the other three agents searching the lab thoroughly, each of them with a gun in hand._

_“Just as I thought.” Benson grinned triumphantly._

_He walked back to the cell and lowered his body until his eyes were at the same level as Napoleon’s._

_“Mr. Solo, I was informed that your friend Mr. Kuryakin is here. Ready for some little action?”_

_Napoleon narrowed his eyes at the statement. Kuryakin? Who was this Kuryakin? He did not remember a friend called Kuryakin._

_“If this drug proves to be what we intended, think about how this can conquer the world. We feed them a little of this, and we can control them to do whatever we please…” Benson rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Isn’t that marvelous?”_

_He looked back at Napoleon and grins._

_“Umm… Let’s try something a bit more fun. Mr. Solo, let me see… I want you to beat Mr. Kuryakin to death, is that clear?”_

_He took out a picture of Illya and held it in front of Napoleon._

_So that was the order!_

_Napoleon nodded robotically and repeated in an even tone. “I’ll beat Mr. Kuryakin to death, sir.”_

_Benson continued his fake smile. “Very good. Mr. Solo. You have your order, kill him!”_

_Napoleon staggered and led out by a guard. Benson turned to the man in the white lab coat._

_“Let’s see how it goes.”_

\----------

Napoleon opens his eyes, heavy breathing as he sits up on the bed. He unconsciously reaches for his gun only to find himself safe and sound in his own apartment. He turns on the bedside lamp and walks into the bathroom. Napoleon looks at himself carefully in the mirror. He is not that easy to be scared by a nightmare. First of all, he is no longer a child. Second, his life can often be scarier than a horrible dream. But this particular dream… It feels so real, so vivid in his mind. He can see Benson’s fake laugh that makes him wants to punch him, and tastes the drug’s bitterness. But what disturbs him the most is that he completely obeys Benson’s order to beat Illya. To kill Illya. Napoleon shakes his head as he thinks of these words. They are absolutely absurd and ridiculous. He would rather kill himself. He’ll never hurt, don’t even mention to kill his partner. Napoleon splashes some cold water on his face, and smooths his hair back. He winces when his hand goes over a lump on his head. Napoleon gasps and tries to steady his breath. He splashes some more cold water on his face and repeated to himself: This is just a dream, this is just a dream. This is just a dream. And the lump is just a coincidence, he must have bumped himself somewhere. It is just a dream, though a very vivid dream. 

 

Napoleon rubs his face with his hands and yawns. Lack of sleep recently really reflects on his face. Good thing is that Waverly still doesn’t assign him any heavy duties. A delivery is his most exciting mission recently, but even that is very rare. He yawns again as he finally finishes signing the last report for the day. Napoleon stands up and stretches. It is a beautiful sunny day today, so he decides to have his lunch outside instead of in the cafeteria. He thinks the fresh air will probably wake him up a little.

 

Napoleon decides to get his lunch from a food cart and walks along the busy New York streets until he finds an available bench. He chuckles as he looks down his hands. He accidently buys two sandwiches without even noticing until now. He puts the extra on the side and starts to unwrap the one in his hands. While he is doing this, he begins to wonder when and how Illya becomes the most important person in his life. It all happens so quickly, so natural, like… they are just meant to be with each other. As he takes a bite of the sandwich, he can feel Illya right beside him, gallops bites after bites happily without stopping until the food is gone. Then he will always lick the remaining sauce off his fingers without missing a single spot. Napoleon always finds that particular gesture extremely sexy and arousing, if they are not in public, he swears he’ll take Illya down right on the bench and kisses him passionately and… Napoleon suddenly feels the blood starts to rush down to his groin. He tries to distract himself by looking up at the clear blue sky. The blueness of it reminds him of his very own partner’s eyes, they are so dream-like and they seem to look through Napoleon directly. He begins to notice more and more pigeons gather around the bench, perhaps by the smell of the untouched sandwich. Napoleon unwraps it, nibbles little pieces off and throws them on the ground. He stands up and throws the wrappers into a nearby trashcan. He just wishes Illya is here. 

 

He returns to UNCLE headquarter and walks directly towards the medical. He wants to be with Illya and decides to stay there every night until he is fine to get out. Napoleon accidentally bumps into one of the lab researchers, Jeff Roy, who is rushing out of the lab with a file in his hand. He apologizes then thanks him as Napoleon picks the file up for him. 

“Oh, Mr. Solo! I need to congratulate you and Mr. Kuryakin!” He says as he pushes up his glasses. 

“What for, Jeff?” Napoleon asks curiously. 

“Well,” He looks up at him with a slight frown. “oh, how’s Mr. Kuryakin by the way?” 

“He’s… getting better,” Napoleon nods slightly to show his appreciation. “so, what’s this all about?” 

“Oh yes,” Jeff opens the file and shows him the report of his finding. “the clean-up team brought back some unidentified drug found in  
the lab. We did some tests and discovered that they were actually Richardson’s drug, which we initially thought THRUSH had not yet started to developing it.” 

“So, what exactly does that drug do?” 

“It’s a kind of drug that penetrates the brain to obey certain people and their comments. Basically, this can control anyone to do anything they want them to do.” 

Napoleon makes an incredible face and Jeff smiles. “Scary, huh?” 

“However, it isn’t perfect yet, so the effect will only last a short time. Say… about a few hours. Think about if THRUSH successfully developed this and control the whole world!” 

Napoleon frowns at the idea of THRUSH taking over the world. 

“Well, I’d better get going and gives this to Mr. Waverly. See you around, Mr. Solo. And please send my concern to Mr. Kuryakin.” 

Napoleon leans against the wall, watching Jeff disappears down the hall. _Illya, do you hear that? It’s all over now. I just need you to get well soon._

\----------

Like most of the time he was there, Illya is asleep. Napoleon bends down and fingers his hand through his partner’s soft blond hair. 

“How are we doing today, buddy?” He whispers softly. 

He feels the pain rushes up to his chest when he sees the dark purple bruises on Illya’s neck. He wants to kiss them by thinking that maybe enough love will let all of Illya’s injuries disappear. Conscious that the doctors or the nurses might suddenly burst in, Napoleon instead traces those bruises with his fingers slowly and tenderly. His other free hand automatically reaches for Illya’s and holds it tightly. 

_“…you got yourself section two number one UNCLE agent.”_

_“…Let’s try something a bit more fun. Mr. Solo, let me see… I want you to beat Mr. Kuryakin to death…”_

_“Basically, this can control anyone to do anything they want them to do.”_

_“You have your order. Kill him!”_

Napoleon feels his head pounding as all those voices storming back, attacking him without mercy. They overlap each other and buzz violently inside his brain. Napoleon withdraws both of his hands from Illya and clenches them to the rails beside the bed. He closes his eyes and tries to steady himself. The voices gradually fade and his head clears up a bit. He opens his eyes and expects everything to go back to normal. Instead, all he sees is a dark dungeon, with its cold, gray brick walls, and a counter in the middle with lab equipment on top. 

Napoleon looks down. He sees Illya’s big blue eyes widen, and both of them are filled with shock, fear, and tears as he struggles on the floor, trying to free himself as a black, shadowing figure hovers over him, a hand on Illya’s neck, almost choking him. 

“No! No! No!” Napoleon shouts.

He tries to push the shadowing figure away from Illya, but he can’t, all he grabs is a handful of air. So he tries to use his body to protect Illya from the shadowing figure, but again, he can’t. This time, it is his body that reacts like a bunch of air. Napoleon stands helplessly clenching his fists as the black figure beats his partner again and again. He sees blood streaming out of Illya’s mouth and his legs move violently as the fist strikes him repeatedly. Napoleon closes his eyes to avoid the scene, but still, he can’t. The image of the black figure violently beating his partner is still there. In fact, it is everywhere. Napoleon kneels down, hopelessly, with his hands over his head. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop… You are killing him… Please stop…” 

His voice becomes hoarse from shouting and hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His partner stops struggling and his arms slid down from the black figure. Then his body becomes completely still. Napoleon looks up, tears obscure his visions, but he can still see Illya, lying there, broken and bloody.

“No… Illya… no…” 

He turns to the black figure, and it turns to Napoleon. It looks just like him. 

 

Napoleon gives a shocking gasp as he staggers backward. He loses his balance and bumps into a nurse. Glass shatters and water spills to the ground. 

“Oh!” 

She screams as Napoleon stands up and runs out of the medical. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get away from everyone. He needs to be alone. He needs to… Napoleon runs as fast as he can through the hall and knocks down an agent when is holding a stack of files. 

“Hey!” 

Napoleon keeps on running until he reaches the bathroom breathlessly. He bolts the lock and turns up the tap. He spreads some cold water on his face and sees his hands tremble violently. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and immediately covers his face in shame. Slowly, he slides down the tile wall, his legs curve up and his face buries in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, Illya, I’m awfully sorry…” 

\----------

Napoleon isn’t sure how long he has stayed in the bathroom. Finally, he takes a deep breath, straightens out his suit, and walks out. He enters Waverly’s office without waiting for the secretary to admit him. 

“I want to resign.” Napoleon spells out just as he enters. 

Waverly slowly looks up from a pile of files, pipe in his mouth. 

“Come again, Mr. Solo?” 

“I want to resign, sir.” 

Waverly takes out his pipe and looks at Napoleon carefully, eyes narrowed. Napoleon feels a slight discomfort under his boss’ scrutiny. He shifts his legs nervously. 

“Or at least… May I ask for permission for an indefinite period of leave?” 

“Mr. Solo, can you tell me what’s this all about? You know I can’t give you permission if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

Napoleon nods. “I understand, sir.” 

So he tells Waverly everything that he knows. 

\----------

Illya slowly opens his eyes. There is a blurry figure standing beside his bed. 

“Napoleon?” Illya calls out softly. 

The figure shifts closer to him and clears his throat. Illya blinks couple times and notices that it is actually his boss. Waverly pulls a chair nearer to him and sits down. 

“How are you feeling, Mr. Kuryakin?” 

Illya nods slightly. “I feel much better, sir. Thank you.” 

“Good, good.” 

There is an awkward short pause between them and Illya can sense that his boss is trying to figure out how to phrase those words he is about to say. 

“Sir?” 

Waverly abruptly turns to him and stands up. 

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Kuryakin. I guess I was caught in my thought.” 

He pushes the chair away and pats on Illya’s arm lightly. 

“Get some more rest, I’ll need you on the field as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Illya’s eyes follow his boss until he disappears through the door. Sally comes in with a tray, a glass of water on top and some medications. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kuryakin. How do you feel today?”

Illya grumps when he sees the medications and sinks back into the bed. 

“Oh, come on, Mr. Kuryakin. You know these will help you speed up your recovery.”

Eyes narrowing, Illya holds out his hand and accepts those little pills. He swallows them all at once. 

“Satisfy?” 

She smiles sweetly and puts the glass back on the tray. Illya sighs and looks away. His attention is drawn to the flowers in the vase beside his bed. They look a little dry and yellowish, definitely not newly picked flowers. He fingers them lightly, and one of the petals falls off. Illya frowns. These past few days, Illya always woke up with Napoleon’s fresh flowers beside him. Even though he was asleep sometimes when Napoleon came to visit him, those fresh flowers assure him that his partner has come today, holding his hand, cooing to him, making him feel safe, warm, and most importantly, being loved. For a second, Illya wonders if it’s because Napoleon has forgotten, but a cold chill suddenly creeps through his spine. He tries to steady his voice. 

“Where’s Napoleon?” 

He feels his heart pounding for the answer. Sally looks back at him, doesn’t know how to answer. 

“Uh… He…” 

That’s all Illya needs. He turns his back to her and closes his eye. She tries to comfort him. 

“Don’t worry, Illya, he’ll be back… he just needs some time.” 

Illya doesn’t make any responses or movements. She sighs and leaves him alone. So he knows. Illya has thought about this a few times during the periods when his head is slightly clearer. He even prayed, hoping Napoleon will never find out. Hope this horrible memory will just wipe out of his mind entirely, eternally. Napoleon can’t bare this truth. It’ll devastate him. This is Napoleon Solo, his partner, his best friend, and his lover. Illya understands him too well knowing that the guilt will consume Napoleon even though both of them clearly know that it was due to THRUSH’s drug. Illya knows, because if their roles reversed, he’ll loathe himself to death. He doesn’t even want to consider a life without Napoleon. It would be like a hollow body without purposes and hopes. How horrible this life might be. He needs Napoleon on his side and they will walk through lives together. Illya knows the only way is to find Napoleon and tries to talk some sense into him. 

Illya winces as he sits up on the bed. His whole body still harbors with pain from the last mission. He gingerly supports himself as he slowly stands up, looking around for his clothes. To his disappointment, all he can find is an oversized bathrobe, but he has no other options. He puts it over his hospital gown. Of course, his shoes are nowhere to be found, so Illya settles with a pair of blue slippers under his bed. He rushes out of the hospital as fast as his current body allows him to. 

“Mr. Kuryakin! Where are you going?” 

He hears nurse Sally calling him, but Illya keeps on going without looking back. Soon, he is outside of the medical on to the streets. He can feel people turning to him, staring at him, but all he does is keep going. He stumbles occasionally as he tries to balance his not-yet-recovered body. There’s one point where he just wants to ask someone to call the ambulance and brings him back to where he currently belongs. But there is one thing that is far more important than his current physical pain and exhaustion, he tells himself to steady and to only concentrate on bringing Napoleon back. Finally, overcomes all the difficulties, Illya arrives at the lobby of their apartment. 

“Good morning, Mr. K- ” 

Fred, the guard, looks at him up and down half surprised, half worried. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Kuryakin?” 

Without waiting for Illya’s reply, Fred grabs his arms to hold on to his weak body. Illya breathes in and exhales. 

“Is Napoleon home?” 

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin.” 

Illya lets out a relief sigh. 

“Are you sure you don’t need me to call the ambulance?” 

“I’m alright, Fred. Could you help me press the button to Napoleon’s room?” 

“Sure thing, Mr. Kuryakin.” 

The elevator door opens, Illya walks in slowly and is glad that Fred does not ask any more questions. It feels like another decade before it finally reaches his designated floor. Illya drags his worn out body and staggers through the long hallway. He feels like another million years before reaching Napoleon’s door. 

“Napoleon!” Illya knocks on the door. “Napoleon, it’s me. Open the door!” 

He knocks a little harder. “Napoleon! Napoleon! Let me in!” 

There is no response. Illya listens carefully as he leans his head closer to the door. He hears Napoleon’s clothes ruffles and a clicking sound follows. 

“Go away, Illya.” 

Illya disregards what he just heard and pounds on the door using both of his fists and all of the strength he has, even though he knows he has not got much now. 

“Napoleon! Open the door!”  
Illya feels a bit light-headed. He knows his body is not ready for this kind of excitement, but this is Napoleon he is talking about. So Illya steadies himself and continues to pound on the door. 

“I’m not leaving until you open the door!” 

Napoleon sighs. “Don’t you understand, Illya?” 

Illya can no longer steady his body. His head is so heavy. 

“Illya?” 

“Napo…” Illya’s body goes limp and he knows he’s going to faint. 

“Illya!” 

Napoleon opens the door and catches Illya in his arms before he collapses. 

 

Illya opens his eyes. He feels the softness underneath him and realizes that he is lying on Napoleon’s bed, a wet towel placed nicely on his forehead. Napoleon’s worried gaze is over him, and his warm hands hold on to Illya’s. 

“Feeling better?” Illya nods slightly and smiles. 

This is exactly what he wants. Lying comfortably on Napoleon’s bed, with his partner so close beside him. His smile becomes broader. 

“You scared me, Illya.” 

Illya squeezes Napoleon’s hand lightly. “I’m sorry.” 

Without warning, Illya starts to cough loudly and rather violently. Napoleon stands up worriedly. 

“Illya, are you alright?”

Illya waves his hand in front of him, but continues to cough.

“Maybe I should send you back to the medical.” Napoleon says. 

“No, no, Napoleon.”

His cough finally stops and Napoleon lets out a relief sigh. 

“It’s all right, I just choked on my own saliva.” Illya looks a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh god, Illya, you scared me again.” He gives Napoleon an apologetic glance. 

“I’ll go get you some water, ok?” 

He comes back with a glass of warm water and helps Illya until he is half-seated on the bed. He stacks a cushion behind him to make him more comfortable. Napoleon hands him the water and Illya drinks it greedily. 

“Hey, steady, boy, I don’t want to see you choke again.”  
He finishes the glass and Napoleon puts it down on the bedside table. Illya lets out a content sigh as Napoleon strokes his cheek gently. 

“You know? You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever seen,” he shakes his head. “What do you think you’re doing just walking out the medical like this?” 

Illya meets his eyes innocently as Napoleon continues. 

“Don’t give me that look, Illya Kuryakin! You aren’t fully recovered yet! What if you collapse on the street? And you know a seriously injured UNCLE agent makes the best target for THRUSH!” 

Illya just keeps looking at him, wide-eyed, and an amused smile forms on the corner of his mouth. 

“Are you listening to me, Illya? What’s so funny? I’m not joking, I mean business!” Napoleon says frustratingly. 

“I was just thinking it’s amazing how a man cares about me so much, but is actually the one that’s going to leave me alone, helpless, and exposed to a world full of crazy things and evil THRUSHies.” 

He gives Napoleon another crooked smile. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense, right?” 

Napoleon returns him with a tight smile. 

“I guess this world doesn’t make a lot of sense to me most of the time.” 

His face suddenly becomes serious again and he withdraws his hands from Illya’s. 

“But don’t you see, Illya?” 

Napoleon looks at his knuckles in disgust and flips them over until his palms are facing up. 

“These very hands, that are stroking you, are also the ones that almost beat you to death,” He then points at himself. “and this is the man who told those hands to do this.” 

Illya pulls Napoleon’s hand down and whispers softly. 

“It wasn’t you, it was the drug.” 

“But I could fight it, I should be able to fight it.” Napoleon’s voice trails off as he relives that horrible moment. 

“You couldn’t help it, Napoleon.” 

“You don’t understand, Illya, I don’t want to hurt you again. It’s better for me to stay away from you as far as possible.” 

Illya takes Napoleon’s hand and traces them on his own cheek down to the jawline. 

“The real Napoleon will never hurt me.” 

“But…” 

“If you leave,” Illya kisses Napoleon’s hand. “THRUSH wins.” 

He meets Napoleon’s eyes. 

“And THRUSH can never win. Nothing and nobody can ever separate us.” 

“Illya…” 

A moment of silence passes between them as his partner’s words echo in Napoleon’s mind. Seems to come out of nowhere, Illya circles both of his arms tightly around Napoleon’s waist and buries his head into Napoleon’s belly. He is caught by surprise at first, but soon recovers and puts his hands on Illya’s hair and stroke through it softly. 

“I love you, Napoleon, don’t go.” Illya murmurs into his belly. 

Napoleon gently holds back his partner’s head. 

“I can’t hear you, Illya.” 

Illya looks up at him, eyes so blue and clear, and his cheeks flush slightly. 

“I said I love you and don’t go.” 

“Illya…” 

“I love you! I love you! I love you! Napoleon, how many times do you want me to say until you change your mind?” 

“Illya… I…” 

Napoleon always knows Illya’s love to him is undeniable, but unlike himself, Illya is certainly not the most expressive person. Napoleon, on the other hand, uses this phrase constantly to his partner, especially after the most intimate moments. And Illya always responses with a sweet smile. This is really the first time that he hears his partner says it. Illya is right, THRUSH can never win, and most importantly, THRUSH or any other things can never destroy their relationship. They will face everything together, always support and be beside each other. 

“Illya.” He lifts Illya’s arms down from his waist and his partner looks up at him with confusion in his eyes. 

Napoleon walks to the table where his open suitcase is located and clicks it shut. He puts it back up in the closet. Illya’s smile brightens as Napoleon walks back towards him. 

“Join me?” Illya shifts his body to make room for Napoleon on the bed. 

He accepts the invitation by kicking off his shoes and sliding under the sheet with his lover. Illya interlocks his fingers with Napoleon’s and gives him a naughty smile. 

“So I’ll know if you’re trying to slip away.” 

Napoleon gives him an innocent look and holds up two fingers with his free hand. “I won’t. Scout’s honor.” 

His partner closes his eyes and happiness is written all over his face. Napoleon looks at him and kisses him on the lips. 

Illya peeks with one of his eyes. “Kiss me again, Napoleon.” 

“Go to sleep now, I’ll promise you more kisses tomorrow morning.” 

“Promise?” 

“Yes, go to sleep, Illya.” 

Illya closes his eyes and Napoleon can hear his partner’s light snores soon after. He smiles and interlocks their fingers tighter. With Illya, they really can conquer the world. Napoleon Solo looks at his lover affectionately one last time before drifting into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

\- The End -


End file.
